Page 85 of On Thin Ice

“Not intense, just …” I blew out a breath, trying to find words to describe what I was feeling.

Back in college, I’d had a few guys come out to me—some of who I was pretty sure were hoping to fuck me in exchange for their confession—and I’d had a few older teenagers slide into my DMs to ask for advice about being with a guy for the first time, but Donnie was the youngest kid to ever open up to me like that in person.

Something tightened in my throat, a complex knot of emotion I couldn’t immediately untangle. Pride, that this kid had felt safe enough to approach me. Sadness, for the uncertainty that’d been written in every line of his young body. Hope that maybe my visibility was making a difference. And beneath it all, a wave of responsibility I hadn’t anticipated when I’d decided to be open about who I was.

“Yeah, I guess itwaspretty intense,” I told Ethan, meeting his gaze.

“Looked like he had a lot on his mind,” he observed, his tone casual enough that I couldn’t tell if he was asking me to confide in him or not.

Donnie’s story wasn’t mine to tell, though, so all I said was, “Just working through some things.”

Ethan hummed, the sound thoughtful, as he continued walking down the row of trees. “Yeah, lots of that going around lately.”

My gaze stayed locked on him as he continued on ahead of me. After about twenty seconds or so, he turned to face me, a grin now pasted on his handsome face. “You ready to go find our tree?”

And just like that, we were back to our mission, but it felt like something fundamental had shifted between us tonight. Things felt different … charged with possibility and a new kind of understanding.

Whatever happened next, I knew deep in my bones we were building something together, even if I didn’t know what that was just yet.

CHAPTER20

ETHAN

The mall was a mistake. I realized that immediately after walking through the automatic glass doors into a festive hellscape of fake snow, flashing lights, and what looked like a thousand stressed-out people clutching shopping bags like they were filled with toilet paper at the outset of the pandemic.

Stores to my left and right blared that Mariah Carey song—theMariah Carey song—though the music was just out of sync enough to sound warped and garbled, like a holiday fever dream. Somewhere nearby, a child was either crying or wailing with joy—I couldn’t tell which.

I stood there gripping my car keys so tightly they dug into my palm.

“You can do this,” I muttered under my breath, shoving my keys into my pocket and moving further inside.

I’d told Bell I was going shopping for my family, but the truth was, I’d ordered all their gifts a couple of weeks ago. My sister had already wrapped everything and sent me a picture showing the haul sitting under my mom’s silver tree, waiting for Christmas morning.

I wasn’t here for them; I was here forhim.

And I had no fucking clue where to start.

How did you shop for someone who bought everything he wanted the moment he decided he had to have it? How did you buy something meaningful and important when you were the world’s worst shopper?

How did you find the perfect gift for the man you loved when you hadn’t yet said the words?

Twenty minutes later, I was staring at a wall of pastel bath bombs with names likeSweater Weather,Snow Angel, andFrosted Elixir, whatever the fuck that was. I picked one up and smelled it.

Immediately gagged.

Lavender, citrus, and … vomit? Yeah, definitely vomit.

“Need help finding something for your girlfriend?” a sales clerk asked me, her smile so wide it looked like it hurt her face.

“No,” I said, setting the bath bomb down a little too fast. “He … uh, they… I’m just browsing.”

Smooth.

She chuckled, totally unfazed. “No problem. Let me know if you change your mind,” she said before floating off toward a woman with a toddler chewing on a bar of soap.

I turned on my heel and practically ran out of there, the awful scent sticking in the back of my throat.

Next was a gift shop filled with leather-bound journals, novelty socks with dog faces on them, and tiny stained-glass hummingbird night lights. I walked in, glanced around, and immediately walked out. A stroller clipped my heel. Someone brushed my shoulder and muttered, “Go Aces.” I smiled weakly and kept moving.

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